Mr Sandman
by nicomaarista
Summary: Oh Mr. Sandman. I'm so alone. Give me a man to call my own. Please turn on your magic beams Mr. Sandman bring us. Please please please. Mr. Sandman! Bring us a dream
1. Chapter 1: Mr Dreamboat

**Chapter 1: Mr. Dreamboat**

Saturday morning found the Gryffindor Commons filled with relaxing students who had really nothing better to do with their time. Seamus Finnigan sat staring at the ceiling, Dean Thomas was playing Wizards Chess with Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger was sitting off in the corner, curled up in a rocking chair, reading a book. She would shift every once in a while, when her position lost it's newfound comfort, and yawn with only her right hand to try to hide it.

Indeed, everyone was bored with the day. The rain really prevented them from going anywhere or doing anything. Only the first years found enjoyment in things seventh years had done way too many times. Dean watched the board tensely. He hoped and prayed Ron wouldn't see that his queen was in line for attack. He prayed Ron would take his pawn instead, but knew he didn't stand a chance. Ron was observing the board all while stroking his nonexistent beard, pretending to think on a decision he's long ago made. Finnigan's eyes were still glued to the ceiling. Just as Ron smirked, and opened his mouth to deal the fatal blow, a loud slam was heard.

"What on Earth..."

Everyone looked up, startled from their dubiously exciting activities in surprise. Hermione actually managed to drop her book. Focusing, everyone heard the shrill sounds of panic and fury.

"Ron? Is that _Harry_?"

Ron and Hermione ran to the stairs to see what was wrong, but Harry was practically jogging down the stairs with a furious look on his face, and they quickly moved out the way.

"Fucking ridiculous."

"Harry! Harry, come back!"

"Fuck you!"

It was like frantic rampaging, and everyone watched for the entertainment value. Running down the stairs, Harry's boyfriend of 1 month, William Wulfric wore only his boxers. Up the stairs was a 4th year Gryffindor no one really knew very well. _She_ stood almost shyly wearing not even her boxers, but a meager towel she must've found on the floor.

"Do you think that William..."

"I don't know..."

Interrupting their conjectures, Harry stood at the entrance and glared furiously. His entire face was red not with only embarrassment, but absolute fury.

"You know, I find it fucking hilarious that out of the two of us YOU decide to cheat on ME. YOU!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh I think you should know what that means, _Wulfric_. I have been practically _forcing_ myself to stay with you, because...because..."

With a strangled cry of frustration, Harry turned away from the boy and stormed right out the door. Milling students stared in wonder at the oppressive fury on Harry's face, and the worried concern on that of his two best friends. Meanwhile, Dean and Seamus made sure William wasn't following behind, and the door shut closed.

"Harry! Harry, wait up!"

"Yeah, mate! Hold up!"

Noticing that he wasn't slowing down, but speeding up, Hermione told Ron to go back and find out what happened from William. Ron of course argued that they both very well knew what happened, but Hermione managed to convince him. Somehow, she was certain this was a subject Ron wouldn't be too helpful with. Sprinting through the halls, she turned a corner, and nearly ran right by the alcove Harry managed to scrounge himself in. When she backpedaled, she paused to catch her breathe. She noticed idly that Harry was holding a little bottle of red liquid in his hands. The verdant orbs stared it down with bitterness. The vial was turned upside down and right side up; upside down and rightside up repeatedly till it became just a bit disturbing.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up, and Hermione was shocked by the look of resentment in the leaf-colored gaze.

"Potions."

"What about potions, Harry?"

"For the past month, I've been using potions to keep myself from breaking up with him."

Along with her best friend's statement came the most bitter of tears she'd ever seen Harry shed. He picked up the vial, and threw it at the wall across from them, watching it with morbid satisfaction as the glass shattered, and the crimson liquid trickled down the walls.

"Harry! What potion was that!"

"Lust. It was a lust potion, Hermione. I've been scarfing down lust potions for the past month. Do you have just any idea what they've been doing to me? I wake up sometimes, and my hands...My hands are shaking. Often, the nerves down my legs are tingling, and I can't walk right. You have no idea how many worried looks I've gotten from my Quidditch mates, or how many times I've nearly fallen off my broom during my more dangerous moves."

"But...But Harry, how? To get that kind of nerve damage you must have been..."

"Consuming them daily, one on top of the next? Well yeah. That's exactly what I've been doing. The nerve damage got so bad, I became worried that even if I stopped, I wouldn't get better again. I nearly went to Professor Snape or Madame Pompfrey."

"Whatever possessed you to do something so foolish!? Why didn't you go!?"

"It would have been too awkward answering the questions. It wasn't that he wanted to end our relationship that made me so angry, Mione. It was the fact that I worked so hard to keep us together, and then HE..."

"Are you telling me that because he couldn't satisfy you in bed, you consumed lust potions to make up for it?"

"Yeah. If he noticed, he'd break up with me, wouldn't he? I could've dumped him, but I was so scared. You know how it was when I was forced out the closet last year. You know how the whole house reacted. When I started dating Dumbledore's nephew, however...Everything suddenly became fine again. I couldn't stand the hatred."

"Oh, Harry...It couldn't have been worth it, though. Why didn't you say something like this was going on?"

"I didn't want to scare you guys. Even when I'm not scared, you guys are panicking. Imagine when I actually am."

Catching her breathe at the teary gaze, Hermione reached out, and held her best friend to him. She can't believe he suffered like this in silence and no one noticed. Didn't Ron notice the shivering? Didn't she?

"Well I see this as a good thing."

"How can this be a good thing? My boyfriend just became my ex-boyfriend right before my very eyes."

"Exactly. 1) If he sucks that much in bed, he doesn't deserve you. 2) I wouldn't have found out that you truly think Gryffindor House would desert you just because of your homosexuality, and 3) You no longer have a reason to drink those blasted potions! Honestly, Harry! You could have died from those! It's self-destructive behaviour. Like pointing the crutiatius at yourself repeatedly, over and over and over again for five-seconds each time! Don't ever touch a lust potion again, Harry. Ever! Will you promise me that!?"

"Y-Yeah. I promise."

"If you didn't need me so much right now, I would go give him a piece of my mind! The ruddy bastard! Now, get up. We have to go see Professor Snape for the nerve-damage. Maybe he has some helpful potions in store. Is it happening right now?"

"Yeah. My calves are tingling, and my hands aren't really all that steady. My head hurts too."

"Come on, then. We have to hurry."

As she walked with Harry, she can see how they didn't notice. What went on within did not necessarily go on with-out. The shaking was never so bad in their presence, because he probably hid it well, and the tingling was in inner occurrance, and showed no external symptoms. Lust potions are effective, because they heighten your nerves. When your nerves are that excited, nothing functions properly or evenly. It's like a constant rave party going on in your body 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

"Were you able to sleep?"

"A couple hours, maybe 2 or three."

"But...!"

"Charms."

Soon, Hermione was knocking firmly on Professor Snape's office door, staring at the Potions Master with a serious expression when he opened the door to see who would dare disturb his weekend.

"Miss Granger, and Mr. Potter. What in Merlin's name are you doing darkening my doorstep on a weekend. Shouldn't you be frolicking with the other..."

"Yes sir, we would be stewing in our boredom with the other Gryffindors, however we need your assistance. Do you have any potions for severe nerve damage?"

"Ironically, I just finished a new batch for Madame Pompfrey. Why? Who needs it?"

"Harry does, sir. He's...um...Well, he's been consuming lust potions continuously for the past month."

Professor Snape's eyebrow rose elegantly in surprise as he stared Harry down.

"Mr. Potter, Mrs. Granger, that is entirely impossible. I assume by continously, you mean daily, every six hours?"

"Yes, sir, but..."

"Well you see that is impossible, because that cannot go on for an entire month and have Mr. Potter in neither an epileptic seizure before us, or six feet under in a coffin. The epileptic seizure would actually be a rare stroke of fortune."

"You mean he should be dead!?"

"By the third week. Now tell me the real reason why..."

"But this is the real reason, sir. I don't know why Harry's so fortunate to still be alive, but he _has_ been consuming lust potions in that manner for the past month. Please give us the nerve damage potion, we're very anxious."

Professor Snape stared at them in curiousity, and watched Harry closely. He could see all the symptoms of nerve damage, but it wasn't as serious as it should be.

"Very well. If what you say is true, then you should see Madame Pompfrey as well. You will follow me immediately to deliver these potions and receive a check-up."

"Yes, sir."

The entire time, Harry said not a word. He was entirely too focused on making sure his legs didn't collapse out from underneath him. When Professor Snape moved to go to the Hospital Ward, Harry and Hermione both took one step, but that was Harry's last for the day. After all his efforts, his front leg buckled first, and everything simply followed.

* * *

The next time Harry woke up, he was laying down in a hospital bed. The first thing he noticed was that the tremors that had been plaguing him for so long were gone. Madame Pompfrey must have given him the nerve-damage reversal when he was asleep. When he rationalizes on it, he wonders just what was wrong with William. Besides the fact that the boy was too needy, there just wasn't the chemistry there. But what makes chemistry? What does he really want in his partner?

Well, the person must be homosexual, of course. It became pretty clear pretty soon William was straight. He kept feeling Harry up as if he had breasts. It made sense he was cheating on Harry with a girl. At the same time, William was so fucking arrogant. He didn't know when the hell to shut his trap about something. He would always brag about how impressive he is, and Harry barely repressed the urge to open his jaw and exclaim that there was absolutely nothing "impressive" about the Ravenclaw.

"Impressive my arse."

"Harry!"

"Hey, 'Mione. What's up?"

"W-What's up? I'll tell you what's up, Harry James Potter. I will be watching everything that enters your body from this moment onward, do you understand me?"

"Everything that enters my body?"

"Everything. Whether it be food, drink, or heaven forbid it, potion."

"Oh, well you see...That's not everything. You're forgetting cum, and a penis. Well if I had my way, TWO penises."

Harry smirked when he saw Hermione's blush travel from her cheeks to her toes.

"Well...Maybe not quite _everything_."

"Good to know. Thanks for being there when I needed you."

"Oh there's no need to thank me, Harry. That's what friends are for. Besides, ever since you were outed, I've felt closer to you. I now have someone to have girl-talk with and go shopping with. To top it off, I don't have to worry about how I dress around you anymore."

"My being gay doesn't mean you can suddenly slobbify yourself, 'Mione."

"That's hardly what I mean, Harry! I don't have to worry that my clothes look too revealing. I don't want to drive your hormones and give you wrong impressions. These cloaks get awfully warm."

"Just don't start appearing nude, and all will be well. Why were you fidgeting before, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing..."

"Knowing you, you had a question."

"Well..."

"Let the girl-talk begin."

"I was just thinking..."

"So _that's_ what I smell burning."

"If you were consuming lust potions, because William was just _that _bad, then you must have also dreamed about what it would be like to have someone just _that_ good."

"And you're wondering what that someone is like."

"Yes. I'm sorry if it's too personal, Harry. I was just..."

"Large."

"Huh?"

"Well, my dream boat tended to be the opposite of William, and therefore had a considerably large penis. It's more often than not, at least 10 inches in length and and undefined thickness in girth. He's also very rough and bossy."

"So you're a submisive."

"Oh not necessarily. I can top every once in a while. I just don't like it being a regular thing."

"Why not?"

"You tell me, Mione. Do you want to be the one always in control? Wouldn't you like someone who's strong and sure of himself to hold you in his arms and treat you just the way you'd like to be treated. Wouldn't you like to wake up in the morning knowing you have truly been fucked within an inch of your life and want to do it again and again and again and again? I want to get up out of bed and feel that deliciously painful feeling of not being able to walk because my lover's cock nearly split me in half _three days ag_o. I want to hear him growl orders in my ear and feel lust pool in the pits of my belly. I want to feel like I am the luckiest man alive every time we have sex. Of course no one understands this. The boy-who-lived is supposed to be the-knight-in-shining armor. No one wants to acknowledge that the saviour of the wizarding world wants someone who's going to be able to take control and make important decisions for him. They all want me to be _so_ independant."

"When you really just want someone you can depend on."

"Yeah. Oh, Harry."

"It's alright, I guess. I just haven't found him yet. I know he's out there, though."

"Well then I'm going to help you find him."

"Help me how?"

"First on my How to Get Harry James Potter a Smoking-Hot Boyfriend list, is..."

"Is...?"

"A shopping spree."

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

XDDDD I have two things to say:

1) I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter. Fun fun.

2) I am making NO PROMISES on the regularity of my updates. I have made promises before only to be unable to keep them. If I HAPPEN to update once a week, that is a complete coincidence. I am, in fact, a university bio major student (hope my grammar reflects it) who also happens to be in the Honors Program. The purpose of telling you that was not necessarily to brag, but to inform you that I will be very busy.

Now that that is finished, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my story.

Read and Review!

Love, nicomaarista


	2. Chapter 2: Nothing Would Please Me More

Chapter 2: Nothing Would Honor Me More

Harry's refusal was swift and merciless; leaving Hermione with nothing to plead her case to but the back of his head.

"Please? Pretty please with cherries on top!"

Truth is, clothes are a sore topic for Harry. All he's ever worn are hand-me-downs. All the times he watched Aunt Petunia come home with bags and bags of clothes for herself and Dudley, he swore he would never get sucked into that stupid trap. He swore he would never go shopping for more than the basic necessities. All he's ever purchased are robes. Dudley's hand-me-downs are certainly large enough to last him a lifetime. It's not like Harry's growing any taller, is it? Harry promptly explained all of this to Hermione and told her that under no circumstances whatsoever, can he get her to go shopping.

Hermione continued to beg him with her eyes, but Harry didn't even look. Her hands which had grabbed onto him in earnest pleading slipped away with her dejected huff. Her eyes then turned to him in sympathy.

"Harry...That doesn't make any sense. If they've never purchased you anything, shouldn't you rather purchase everything you can for yourself? I can't help but think that it's unhealthy for you to decide you're going to allow them the satisfaction of seeing you still wearing your cousin's hand-me-downs even when you have more than enough money to purchase your own necessities. They'll think they've broken you..."

Hermione is the only person to know, truly, what Harry's home life was. One day, she sat him down, locked the door, warded the room and made sure neither of them would get out until he told the truth. All of it. The Gryffindor Witch was forced to put her friend through 4 hours of torture - terrible musical numbers in her scratchy cat-nails-on-board voice, a book on Potions ingredients and all their properties (un-abridged), and multiple screeching lectures on how disappointed she was in him keeping his home-life a secret from her - before he was amazed he lasted so long. She was beginning to annoy herself, and she knows Ron wouldn't have lasted longer than an hour, if that.

"It's not letting them win. It's being sensible! Why should I waste money on clothes when there are better things to spend it on?"

Hermione laughed incredulously " Just half your vault, set up to keep growing with an appropriate interest-rate to accomodate world population increase, would permanently end world hunger! I'm sure you have more than enough money to spend on clothes for yourself. Besides, Harry, you deserve to have nice things."

Harry pouted. "That's funny, coming from you. How many times have I told you there's no reason to wear those frumpy old clothes all the time. That it's important for a girl with a figure like yours to show it off a bit. And why haven't you gone to that salonist that gave you her card in Diagon Alley. She said she could do something for you about your hair, and everyone knows how much you hate your hair and how much trouble it gives you in the mornings."

"Just because I don't dress like that slut Parkinson all the boys seem content to throw themselves at-"

"No one is asking you to walk around in mini skirts and tube tops. Just dress like you know you're an attractive young woman who's about to graduate and go out into the work force!"

"But..."

"Listen. The reason Ron keeps sitting around on his arse waiting to ask you out, is because he doesn't see any possibility that he'll have some kind of competition. For the longest time, he thought I was his greatest competition, but I turned out to be gay. Now, he seems to think that he has forever and a day to pull his head out his arse! I'll go shopping Hermione, but only if you let me buy you some clothes and light a fire under his lazy arse!"

Harry's eyes blazed in frustration, but Hermione's began to water. "Is he really just..."

Then it was Harry's turn to feel sorry for her. She was so in love with Ron. Harry secretly thought it was because she hadn't considered any alternatives, and hoped that this makeover would bring up a few. "Yes. He really is just sitting around wallowing in self-pity, expecting you to wait around for him. It's just a makeover, Hermione. Some make-up, a new hair-style, and some clothes. No re-engineering. You'll still be the same book-loving, lecture-giving, up-and-coming Gryffindor you've always been. Just...hotter."

Hermione giggled "I honestly don't think I'm capable of being...hot."

"Well look at that! There IS something you don't know."

A tear finally fell down her face. "And you'll go shopping too?"

Harry, with a gentle hand, reached up and wiped the tear away."And I'll go shopping too; for as long as you want. Promise."

"Fine..."

Then, Harry grinned as if that had been his plan the whole time. Hermione wonders if it really wasn't.

* * *

At seven o'clock in the morning, Harry barged into the girl's dormitory and marched to Hermione's door. Even though this day was supposed to be about him, Harry was absolutely determined to deflect the attention off of him, and place it directly on his dear, lovable yet self-conscious friend Hermione. When Harry barged into Hermione's room, the girls that were already awake screamed. Then, of course the rest woke up and screamed, and since Hermione woke up with the noise and heard Harry's name somewhere in the commotion, she quickly spelled her curtains closed and burrowed her head further under the blanket.

"Hermione Jane Granger, I know you're in there!"

Silence. The Gryffindor shoved her head further under her pillow and ignored him.

"Hermione!" Silence. "HERMIONE!"

Hermione sighed deeply and mumbled, "Hermione Granger isn't here right now, but if you leave your name, number, and a detailed message she'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you, and goodbye. Beep~"

Green eyes stared incredulously at where Hermione's head was supposed to be. "Merlin's balls...Fine. You want to play games, then I'll play along. If this isn't Hermione, then who is this?" Silence. "Hermione?" Silence. "HERMIONE!"

Harry continued to call her name till he grew fed up with her games and threatened in a voice as calm and cold as a Tsunami to blow the whole bed apart if she continued to refuse to come out.

"Hermione Jane Granger, I swear this is your last warning. We made our promises to eachother and you have 10 seconds to open these curtains, come out here, face me like a woman, and honor them. You know I'm crazy enough to do it, Hermione; I will blast your bed apart and drag you to hogsmeade in your underwear."

Hermione cracked an eye open and took up five of her ten second deciding whether or not she should call his bluff. It is indeed true that lately, her friend's reactions border on the clinically disturbed, but would he really dare to blast her bed apart, take on the trouble that would cause him, and drag her outside in her underwear? She isn't even wearing any underwear!

"6...7...8..."

"I'm naked."

Harry paused for a second.

"What?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I _said_...I'm naked. In the literal sense. As in, I'm not wearing any underwear."

A blush seemed to light up Harry's face and the other girls who had been listening to the whole conversation, tittered amongst themselves.

"How did you...Why did you...Huh! You knew we were going out!"

"Well, yes, but it's not like I knew you would barge into my room and try to forcibly drag me out, now did I! I was having such a lovely dream too! Then you had to come in and disturb it..."

"Well, then wear some!"

"I can't."

"Why the bloody hell not," Harry screeched.

"Because my underwear are in my bloody trunk, and unless you're bloody well ready to grab some for me and hand 'em the bloody hell over, I would bloody well appreciate it if you would sod off outside and bloody wait! Bloody!"

Harry pouted. Hermione was ruining all his well-crafted plans. "Well...I mean..."

A bushy brown head suddenly popped out from behind the curtains with an exasperated sigh. "Harry Potter, I'm not dressing with you in the same room. Now please give me time to shower and dress. I'll be down in 45 minutes."

"Right..." Harry blushed brightly before quickly walking outside the room. As soon as the door was closed, the girls practically launched themselves at Hermione's bed pestering her with questions on how she turned the supposedly gay Harry Potter, bi-sexual."

* * *

"Thanks to you, the whole school will think we're dating by the end of tonight."

Harry turned around forty minutes later to see Hermione dressed in a sweater and some jeans. "What? Why?"

"Well, you great big lumox, you barged into my room as if you belonged there, blushed like a school-yard virgin at the thought of me naked, and proclaimed that we "made our promises to eachother"!"

"I didn't mean it that way, though..."

"I know that and you know that, but those birds of prey in there will do anything to ignore the subtleties for a piece of juicy gossip. They claim we're getting married."

"Are they mad! Wait. Are you mad?"

Her smile was wry. "That I'm supposedly dating someone I'm not? A little. That I'm the girl who's supposedly turned the previously-gay boy-who-lived bi-sexual?" Here Hermione smirked. "Not so much. It's quite flattering, really. They're fuming up there. Think I'm the next Lady Potter."

Harry smirked. "And you won't correct them?" Harry expected her to giggle in feminine glee, but never to sit there with a pensive frown.

"You know...I thought about it. If my reasons for getting the makeover is lighting a fire under Ronald's slow arse, then I'm doing it for all the wrong reasons. I think I need to gain confidence in myself as an attractive woman of importance first. Otherwise, I'll just keep making the same mistakes, and Ron will just be slow somehow else. Maybe into our relationship, he'll find someone more confident than me or prettier than me, and as long as I have these insecurities, I'll never be able to fully trust him. I don't want that kind of relationship; where I'm always looking over my shoulder. I'll let them believe I'm the next Mrs. Potter, just so I'll be left alone. You don't mind do you?"

Harry blushed and caught the girls watching them from the corner of his eye. The next thing Hermione knew, an arm was wrapped around her waist and she was being dragged into Harry's lap.

"Harry!"

Harry pecked her lightly on the cheek, much to the other girls' displeasure.

"Nothing would honor me more."

* * *

AUTHOR NOTE:

For those of you who read the first chapter almost 2 years ago and are reading this one, thank you so much for your patience and giving it a second try! I've been going through so much emotional turmoil for the past year and a half, and I haven't been able to write anything of use. From now on, I while I can't promise that something like this won't happen again, I am working steadily towards making sure it doesn't. Thank you so much! XOXO


	3. Chapter 3: Crotchless Underwear

**Chapter 3:** Crotch-less Underwear

Harry and Hermione stood at the doorstep of Madame Malkins' as if it were their first years again; as if the door was suddenly the entrance to a prison, and the lady inside was it's ward. When Hermione turned to stare at Harry in apprehension, she noticed that he was just as nervous as she was. She suddenly, terribly, thought that she could manipulate him into going back home because for a brief moment, her fear was more important than Harry's success. The moment after, she realized they were behaving like children; standing before a clothing store they'd been to many times before; standing before a clothing store many girls frequented to beautify themselves. Why couldn't she be beautiful like the other girls? Besides, she promised she would help Harry pick out a new wardrobe, didn't she? Truth is, they both need to realize that they're worth their own time and effort.

"Harry."

"I know. Count of three."

They gulped, but put their Gryffindor faces on. "One...Two...Three..."

Stepping into the store was like stepping into chaos. Madame Malkin and her assistants were running around the room summoning pins, measuring tape, and special cleaning supplies; trying to accomodate the influx of Gryffindor students there to repair their robes after the fight that occurred in Gryffindor House two weeks ago. What the argument was about, the two newcomers can't remember. Their ears were still ringing from the verbal tsunami Professor McGonagall rained upon them after it. First years cowered and still couldn't look her properly in the face. It became a legend that leaked to the other houses. If nature would have allowed it, she would have roasted them with her breathe. But it didn't, and they were left to fix their own wear. Ron received another earful from his mother.

"Oh, dear! Not you too! Please tell me you aren't here for repairs?"

Madame Malkin, due to her obviously frayed nerves, received a nod.

"Is that a nod as in you need repairs, or a nod as in you're here for something else?"

When Harry muttered the latter, she sighed in such great relief that she immediately set to work on them; leaving her attendants to take care of the others. She was in need of small break anyway.

"So what may I help you with?"

"She needs new clothes!"

Hermione's glare was full of such fury, it was a wonder Harry didn't explode right on the spot.

"You skeezy little..."

"Mrs. Granger? How wonderful! To be honest, young lady, I've been waiting to get my hands on you and those dreadful clothes. I feared it would be years before you came to me for something more...form-fitting...but alas!"

Hermione was dragged off before she could utter another word. Harry waved her off, and if looks could kill...

Harry turned to look around the room; wondering just what he was to do now that Hermione was dragged off somewhere getting measured. It was during this perusal of his surroundings that he discovered the most bewildering sight: Lucius Malfoy in a sewer's robe; helping customers pick out colors.

It's important to note that after the war, not a word was heard of Lucius Malfoy. One day he was captured, and that was that. There was no public notice of a sentence, yet there was no public notice of an acquittal. There wasn't even notice of a trial. Rumors spread like wildfire when he suddenly showed up 4 months later. Some claimed he was imperiused under the Dark Lord's power while others claimed cash was exchanged for freedom. The four month disappearance rumors ranged from a recuperating vacation to a last ditch effort at reviving the Dark Lord. Harry was more inclined to believe that a man as powerful as Lord Malfoy was able to escape jail, yet he didn't disappear to revive the Dark Lord, but to keep a low profile while he re-assessed the situation. His re-assessment, apparently, included a divorce from his wife. Lord Malfoy was able to keep the mansion while Narcissa Black re-located to a place unknown. The reason for their divorce was not given.

Harry's stares didn't go unmissed. When the-boy-who-lived first entered the building, Lord Malfoy took notice. He'd made it a point to take notice of everyone who walked through the doors to make sure customers did not go missed. However, while he was not surprised to find himself mildly curious with the boy's presence at Madame Malkin's, he was somewhat wary at finding himself the subject of a similar stare. He did not enjoy imagining the thoughts going through the boy's mind. He wasn't, however, going to cower in the distance like some child. During the four months he disappeared, he did nothing but fight with his wife. Some of the pettiest things seemed to irritate her, and the mildest slight against the Dark Lord irritated her. She was his biggest supporter, even though she didn't want her precious son joining him. She felt he was too soft for the life of a death eater; too young to be tied in bondage to a man bent on ruling something he'd yet to fully experience; the world. Lucius didn't know what to think. The Dark Lord that was defeated by a teenage Harry Potter was not the man who wooed him with words; was not the man he tied himself to. Towards the end of the Dark Lord's reign, Lucius began to feel cheated and lied to. Where was his Tom Riddle? Where was the man who promised him a better world where the tradition and safety of the Wizarding World was preserved?

Even more than 20 feet away, he knows those eyes are judging him. He's far from oblivious to the rumors running around about him and his suspicious lack of prison robes.

Harry, however, was not judging the man at all. Rather, he was focused on the color decisions he was making for the customers he collected. Those who came out seemed to be dressed in colors and clothes that suited their age, eyes, and skin color. Since Harry didn't exactly fancy being made to wait for Madame Malkins to be done with Hermione. Making up his mind, Harry walked over to the elder man and made his greetings.

"Hello Lord Malfoy."

"Hello...Lord Potter now is it?"

Harry smiled bashfully. He'd received his inheritance a couple months ago and a lot of people had already tried calling him Lord Potter, much to his insistence otherwise.

"Yes, but unless there's a formal pureblood requirement for it, just Harry is preferred, or Potter if it makes you more comfortable."

Lucius quirked an eyebrow. "I would think you would be more comfortable than I."

"Well the war is over, sir, and you're somehow free. I don't care enough to torture both of us pouring salt over old wounds. Everyone has their reasons for doing what they do, and you're no different I imagine. Besides, sir, you look positively harmless in that sewer's robe."

The Dark Wizard grinned wryly. Perhaps he was wrong about Harry Potter. Besides, he did promise Madame Malkin he would be nice to the customers.

"More than 8 years ago, I formed a life-debt to Madame Malkins. I forgot about it completely, but she, apparently did not. This morning, she called it in and ordered I come and help with the influx of students. Personally, I think it was a waste."

"Do you owe many people life debts?"

"Absolutely not I despise them and Madame Malkin's was the only one. Rather many people owe _me_ life debts. I believe in this case, I was drowning."

"Well..."

Lucius huffed gently. "Mr. Potter, I find it difficult to believe you approached me to inquire after my history and make small talk. Now how may I assist you?"

"Oh! I...umm...just needed help choosing a new wardrobe, and since everyone you've helped looks great and all, I thought you would be the one to ask, so...yeah. Here I am, I guess."

Outwardly, Lucius pretended Harry's compliment hadn't tickled him pink. Harry Potter may not be the best meter stick for fashion, but eyes are eyes and a compliment is a compliment, and he can accept that.

"Well, what were you thinking of doing for your wardrobe? A new theme, perhaps?"

"I just want clothes that fit and look good."

So Lucius got to work; swearing that by the time he was done with Mr. Potter, everyone would insist on calling him Lord Potter.

* * *

Meanwhile, with Hermione...

* * *

Hermione Jane Granger was all set to have a fit as the seamstress was not listening.

"Madame! That is not a skirt! That's underwear with nowhere for a crotch, and I absolutely _refuse_ to wear it!"

The..._thing_ as Hermione preferred to call it, was a mini-skirt that barely touched her thigh, and the complete opposite of what Harry promised her this make-over would look like.

"But dear, it's what all your classmates are wearing..."

"I couldn't care less! I just want to turn heads, not become the school floozy. I want something form fitting, but modest and comfortable. If you cannot accomodate that, then allow me to take my business elsewhere!"

"Dear...Aren't you exaggerating just a bit?"

"Ex-Ex-_EXAGGERATING_!"

Hermione knew her explosion was a bit much, but by this point she was frustrated by the woman's insistence.

"How _dare_ you!"

Wearing the atrocious _thing_, Hermione barged out of the room, walked up to Harry who was getting fitted, and insisted that he take a good hard look.

Lucius, who turned to see what the commotion was about, was horrified that he could see Hermione's underwear.

"Mrs. Granger! While I've certainly thought you could dress better, I did not think you would decide on this..."

The Gryffindor witch had failed to see the Dark Wizard, and when he spoke from below Harry's waist-line, she jumped back in horror and crossed her hands over her pelvis.

Harry could tell that Hermione was ready to burst into tears from embarrassment and ran to her side. He grabbed the nearest yard of cloth and wrapped it tight around her waist.

"Love, I had no idea."

"They could all see everything, and...She wouldn't listen!"

Harry sighed and held her close. He should've gone in with her. Now the whole thing may be shot to hell. "Alright, then. Let's go grab your clothes and go try to get your hair done. This time, I'll stay with you the whole way, alright? You don't have to get new clothes if you don't want to."

Lucius watched the exchange with interest. Perhaps...

"Perhaps I can be of assistance Mrs. Granger. I assume you want something modest?"

Hermione shook her head, but Harry was pensive.

"Could you dress a girl? You don't have a daughter, and you're not exactly feminine."

"Harry, no! You said I didn't have to."

"While both of those facts are true...clothes are clothes and what looks good will look good. I've often shopped for my wife as gifts, and modesty among women is not a mystery. I do believe I can help."

Hermione and Harry looked at eachother with pleading eyes.

"Harry..."

"Please just one more try. I think he'll be good, and I'll be right here. If his hand even twitches in the wrong direction, we'll leave."

"But..."

"I promise."

Hermione sighed, but bit her lip. If this fails, there will be no third chance from her."

Lucius conjured a changing room beside the color station, and explained the procedure to her. "I'll choose something I think will look pleasant. If you don't like a color, explain to me as I choose. After each choice, you will change in the booth and allow us to assess. You, of course, have the final choice. Agreed?"

Hermione nodded. The Dark Wizard's soft tone helped to calm her a bit. "No pink, please. I-I hate pink. God, I feel like such a child."

"Standing up for what you want is hardly a characteristic of children, and I believe a true child would have hexed her into submission. You were simply ready to take your business elsewhere. I hate pink as well, though a soft pastel would suit you nicely. Why don't we start with a black crushed velvet dress and add this purple ribbon for some color. These fishnet stockings should keep you feeling clothed yet turn a few heads."

The dress went down a little more than half-way down her thigh, which was an improvement from the skirt. With a sigh, Hermione went on to try the dress. While she changed, Lucius helped Harry.

* * *

Lucius worked efficiently, and the whole thing took no more than two hours. At the end of it, both Hermione and Harry were very pleased with the selections. Hermione was so pleased, when he finished adjusting her skirt, she bent down to her knees (ruining all the adjusting he'd just done), and hugged him. She just couldn't believe that she could look so lovely. Some of the dresses he chose for her made her look innocent, while others made her look devious. She had everything from silk to crushed velvet. Her favorites, however, were the leggings and stockings for her shorter dresses.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Malfoy!"

The Dark Wizard was beffuddled for a moment. It isn't necessarily that he wasn't the hugging type. It's simply that hugging opportunities simply didn't present themselves. Unfortunately, his father worked hard to push the habit out of him, and his ex-wife worked even harder to push the habit out of her son. She had certain ideals of manliness, and she wanted her son to catch only the best pureblood woman.

Not to mention, Mrs. Granger is a muggleborn, and Lucius Malfoy is not in the habit of sharing affectionate gestures with muggleborns. At least the old one wasn't, but you'll be surprised how much can change in half a year.

* * *

After paying, Harry and Hermione went off to finish their makeovers. In Harry's case he was going to try and get that hair managed. In Hermione's case, she was going to get a manicure, pedicure, and try to get her hair managed. Since they both had their hair in common, they decided to visit the salon first and see what could be done. By the end, Hermione was introduced to a wonderful magic-infused blow-dryer, and Harry had his hair cut and fluffed into a shaggy yet manageable fashion. Hermione, in a fit of rebellion, decided to paint her finger and toe nails black. When they returned to Hogwarts, they weren't wearing their new clothes, but everyone could see the change.

AUTHOR NOTE:

Hey, everyone! Here's the latest chapter! I know it seems like not much happened between Harry and Lucius, but don't worry! I'll get there in due time. :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Review responses are in your account inboxes.


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